May The Best Prank Win
by heartdamoose
Summary: Fred and George: two good looking twins with the ego of a color blind hippogriff. So what happens when a prank goes wrong and chaos ensues? A prank war, that's what. Let's see if Hogwarts is still standing by chapter five, shall we?
1. A Grave Mistake

An idea came to me one day. It was a marvelous idea, an idea so big, that it could not be contained inside my head. It could not be contained in my head, nor my purse, my armpit, my…head, again. So thus I decided, well I'll just put it down on paper.

And thus this story was created.

This is a nice Fred and George, kick back and laugh your arse off, kind of fic. So if you haven't the sense of humor, please, you're more then welcome to read my other fics. Lol.

So, let's have some fun.

Disclaimer: The people starring in this story are just here for me to manipulate and have some fun with. Yes, I may put them through pain, odd moments, and other abnormalities, but I do not own them. It is also not my fault if you find yourself on the ground laughing your butt off, or if you find your fellow family unit staring at you like a mad man. Sorry, but not my area of expertise. I'm broke, so don't sue me. Hahaha…

Let the games begin

* * *

Chapter one: A Grave Mistake

* * *

The day was unusually bright and cheery. The sun bathed the castle with a happy radiance that made even the grumpiest of students twitch a small grin. The butterflies were fluttering, the clouds were grinning, the mer-people were singing, trees were swaying, Grawp was giggling, the centaurs were tap dancing, France is laughing at us now, the Great Hall was imploding…

Wait…the Great Hall was imploding?

The students were screaming in horror as they began to run out of the castle, robes caught on fire. Many tripped and fell, unable to get away from the devastation. Smoke was billowing out of the windows, choking many people and making their eyes water. A beam collapsed crushing little first years under its weight, their bones cracking. The smell of burning flesh diffused through the castle as they all burned alive.

Nah…just kidding!

Fred looked down at his cauldron with an amused smiled on his face. The Great Hall imploding would certainly leave a historical marker on the school.

He sighed. Well, today's prank will have to be good enough for now. He looked over to his partner in crime with a slight grin. George felt Fred's eyes and he looked up from his potion, eyes twinkling devilishly.

Potions was a bore today. They had a whole two hours of examining a lumpy potion that looked a whole lot like Hagrid's rock cake gone bad, mixed with moldy parasite infected potatoes and some type of foreign coconut eating, alien infecting, cannibal shrubbery. Since examining such…art…was neither exciting nor sanitary, they both decided to give the class a bang.

'Ready?' mouthed Fred to his partner, eyes growing excited. George nodded with a grin.

Let the games begin.

George took out a small vile that contained the contents of some liquid that look just as bad as the potion that they were supposed to be examining. George grinned and gave Fred a small 'cheers' before opening the bottle and draining its contents.

There was a crash as George fell to the ground unconscious.

Fred stared at his twin's still body. Hmmmm, that wasn't supposed to happen.

No one seemed to notice George's body sticking out in the middle of the isle like some unconscious mangled…thing…strewn to the floor randomly.

Fred stared at the body for a little and shrugged. He turned back towards the ugly evil potion and wrote down some notes.

"Mr, Weasley," drawled the voice of Snape as he looked over to Fred with his deep black eyes. "Why, dare I ask, is there a body on my perfectly clean floor?"

Fred looked up from his notes innocently; everyone's eyes were on him and on the body of his brother.

He looked around. "…What body?"

Snape stared at him in disbelief. "Look next to you Mr. Weasley. I thought that you had at least a tad bit of intelligence, though I guess I have been proven wrong."

Fred looked over to his brother's body. His eyebrows rose. "Oh…that body? I thought you meant…the other…body." He chuckled to himself.

Snape's brows rose as well as he stared at the red head. "Despite my sudden disturbance at the thought of grimy bodies being hidden in my classroom, I must ask you; _why_ is he on the ground?"

The only conscious Weasley in the room looked down as if contemplating a response.

In fact he was contemplating a response, for the author tends to state the obvious.

Fred held up a finger. "Wait, I need to contemplate a response."

And so Fred contemplated with a contemplatedness that no response could even think about responding without appropriate responding materials. And so responding with a contemplation can only make a response that only contemplators could even contemplate about with a response. So really we're all just contemplating responses aren't we?

"Mr. Weasley," said Snape tartly, his face stony and impatient. "I believe I have given you enough time to contemplate. So would you be so kind as to announce a response?"

"Right." Said Fred, clasping his hands together. "Well, I believe that the reason why my brother's body has indeed collapsed to the ground, is because he obviously has some type of foreign allergy that makes him lose consciousness randomly."

Snape stared. "Really. So tell me Mr. Weasley. You and George are twins. Am I correct?"

Fred blinked. "…Last time I checked, yes."

"And you two are identical twins, am I right?"

Fred looked over to his unconscious brother to observe him. "Well, by the looks of it, I believe that we are indeed identical."

Snape nodded, strumming his fingers on his desk with a dangerous strength. "And identical twins share identical DNA, am I right?"

Fred glanced down at his potion. "Well, I don't know why you're asking me. You're forty years older then me."

The class giggled.

The echoes of laughter were soon silenced when the Potion's Professor stared at Fred with his dangerous glare.

Fred met his glaring dark eyes steadily.

"Well, since you two are indeed identical twins, one would think you would share the same allergies. So why are you not on the ground like your brother?"

Fred shrugged. "Well how am I supposed to know? It shall forever be a mystery."

Snape seemed at a loss. He could think of nothing neither insulting nor snarky to shut the carrot head up. This, the absence of his genius insulting mo jo, was rather disheartening. The thought angered him.

"Mr. Weasley," he said sharply. "Obviously your incapability of a brain has wasted this class precious moments of potion examining. So, to cause this class less waste then has already been inflicted when you first set foot into this room, I would like you to dispose of the body."

Fred blinked. "…Dispose of the body?"

"Yes, please rid of it. It's blocking the isle."

"If you're asking me to _murder_ my brother, I hardly think—."

"Not _murder_ Mr. Weasley. I mean take the body somewhere _else_." Snape sighed in frustration as he stood up. He walked to the body of current discussion; the class' wide-open eyes following.

Snape looked down at the body as if nearing a rather smelly turnip. In fact, he _was_ nearing a rather smelly turnip, for George had stored one in his pocket.

"That's where my turnip went!" exclaimed a rather short and smug faced Ravenclaw accusingly.

Shut up you.

Silence.

Snape cleared his throat. He crouched down and picked up a small bottle. The bottle that George had drunk out of. Snape held it in front of him questioningly.

"And what is this?"

Fred squinted as if to get a better look, and he nearly snorted when he noticed the other students do so as well. "That to me Sir, looks like a small bottle."

Snape smirked. "And why is it labeled 'Fred and George's Master Plan'?"

Fred snorted innocently. "Well obviously someone is trying to frame me…_us_."

"Oh really?" said Snape eyeing the bottle mischievously. "Then why does it also say 'made by and only by the brilliant minds of Fred and George'?"

Fred laughed, leaning back in his chair. "Oh does it really?" he asked amazed, rubbing his nose. "How funny. Well, whoever framed us is obviously quite convincing…or an absolutely wondrous actor."

Fred swallowed quietly. Damn Slytherin, he thought. Note: next time, no egologistical labels.

"Putting all egologistical labels aside," the teacher started again. "I am also wondering why this vile contained the Choralworm potion."

Fred blinked and innerly laughed. Eh he he he, no wonder it didn't work…he forgot to…ha ha…pick the right bottle…he he he…

He only shrugged as a reply.

Snape rose one brow, obviously not impressed. "The side affects of this potion Mr. Weasley, are not good. If you had a trace of intelligence I thought you would have known that. Your brother is obviously unstable, and I suggest you take him to the Hospital Wing."

With that Snape turned on his heel and walked briskly back to his desk, as if the whole event hadn't even happened. He then continued his paper work.

Fred stayed at his desk, neither looking at the potion, nor at his brother. He seemed to be in a trance of some sort of deep thought.

After five quite unobservant minutes, Snape noticed that neither Fred nor George had moved. He put down his quill impatiently having enough of this foolish unconscious business.

"Mr. Weasley, since you have failed to do what I asked, both you and your brothers will be having detention with me tonight," he said briskly.

Fred blinked, realizing what he just said. He stared at Snape with wide eyes. "Dude, Snape, what the hell? I didn't do anything!"

Snape's brows rose and there was a chuckle from the class. "Would you like to make that two detentions?"

Fred was about to say something rather rude, but decided against it.

"Now, hurry on," said Snape waving him away. "Before I tie your toenails to the ceiling and beat you with a paddle."

Fred eyed his brother on the ground. "How the heck am I supposed to carry him to the Great Hall."

Snape gave him a look that said 'you're absolutely stupid'. "This is a school of magic Mr. Weasley. By sixth year I thought you would have realized that."

Fred sighed and got out his wand. He glared at Snape giving him an 'I'm not through with you yet' look before taking his brother's arms and dragging him to the Great Hall

OOO

Fred sighed as he dragged the body of his brother down the hallway by the arms. From a distance you could have sworn he looked like a maniac killer, dragging his prey to the closet. Which really isn't a humane thing at all, but considering whom this maniac killer is, he doesn't really need an excuse now does he?

Fred sighed as he dragged the body around a corner, accidentally hitting the body against the wall. Whoops, he thought as he shuffled his feet quickly.

Why am I even doing this? He thought exasperated, grabbing the arms tighter. Why, if I weren't so friendly, I would just drop the body here. It's _his _fault the plan didn't work; _he _was the one who grabbed the wrong potion. And now we're stuck doing only God knows what for detention.

He began to drag the body up the stairs like it was some demented log instead of his other half.

Almost there, he thought relieved. My God, George owes me for risking and suffering over my skin and bones just to drag his body.

Fred dropped the body at the top of the stairs with wide eyes. What the hell am I dragging the friggin body for! I'm a God damn wizard! I don't have to put up with this! I'm not some unholy bad ass of a muggle! I know how to levitate things!

But then Fred grinned an evil grin that made Voldemort look like a heavenly grown turnip. Why let him not suffer when I had to use my witty genius to get out of the classroom? I should let him suffer, it's only fair, the flipping unconscious twin.

He picked up the arms again and dragged him to the Hospital Wing.

OOO

"What the heck are you dragging the body for!" shrieked the voice of Madam Pomfrey as she bustled over to them, arms flailing wildly. "You're a wizard for heaven's sake, use your brain!"

Fred dropped the arms of his brother, leaving him flopped on the ground. He stretched out his wrists and sat down in a chair exhausted. The chastising words of Madam Pomfrey went in one in and out the other.

"You've stooped down to the status of a homeless muggle, what, dragging your load about like it's some flea infested banana peel covered in syrup and some type of unclassified mold!"

Flea infested, eh? Thought Fred to himself, leaning back in his chair, looking at him brother's hair. Hmmmmm…

"…I don't even _know_ what you were thinking! He's your brother for goodness sake! You don't just drag him up the friggin stairs. Heck, how did you even manage to do that! Why, if I weren't so forgiving, you would be hauling your bum to McGonagal's office, watching as points to your house tick away like the brain cells of your brother! I _should_ do that! This is _inexcusable_ Mr. Weasley! Just the smell of—."

"Listen Lady," said Fred with a blink. "I'm real tired. I've been dragging bloody bodies around and now I'm stuck with detention. Can you just drop it?"

"Drop it! DROP IT! Don't tell me to drop it! You just threw the body up the stairs like he's some floppy piece of rejected steak!"

"Kay, now you're just exaggerating," pointed out Fred. "And he really isn't all that muscular…"

"What the hell does _muscle_ have to with it!" she demanded exasperated.

"Well meat is muscle isn't it?" informed Fred. "So you called him a floppy steak. He really isn't all that muscular, he can barely lift up him book bag."

"Well be must have _some_ strength at least," she replied. "He's on the Quidditch team."

"True that," he agreed. "But that's only for publicity. He truthfully sucks. But what's more appealing, two good looking twins holding bats or me working together with some fag?"

"I'm rather fond of the first one…"

"Well who isn't Madam? Everyone loves us. Hell, half the Slytherin House is cheering for us the whole time."

"Well no wonder I see half the house wearing red and gold scarves. The staff was quite perplexed about this."

"I must admit it is quite odd," said Fred stroking his chin. "But I mean, I don't blame them. Especially the ladies."

"Heck, soon enough they'll start chanting your name, making Fred and George shirts, and writing fanfictions about you."

Fred laughed. "How funny would that be? Wait…what's a fanfiction?"

"I'm not sure…"

Fred shrugged as he looked over at his brother. "Well it looks like George is going to be out of it for a while. How about a cup of tea and a few biscuits, eh?"

"Eh…," agreed Madam Pomfrey with a grin and a nod. "A cup of tea sounds good about now."

"Do you have chai?" asked Fred intently.

"Chai? Oh yes of course, can't get through the day without it!" she stood up and brushed herself off. She then made her way to the office, stepping over the obstacle that was the unconscious body of his twin on the way.

And so, Madam Pomfrey and Fred indulged themselves in conversations about anything from confused Slytherins to whatever the heck this so called fanfiction was (which they came to a conclusions that it was a secret society that worships the art of underwater ironing), while the body laid upon the floor, spread out like some exhausted marathon runner.

There was a crash of a door opening and both Fred and Madam Pomfrey looked up in alarm.

"Madam Pomfrey!" exclaimed a loud voice as Dumbledore walked quickly into the room, stepping over the body elegantly and walking up to them. "Neville got into the glue again."

Madam Pomfrey sighed. "_Again_? How the hell did he manage to do that? It's the third time this month!"

Dumbledore shrugged. "I'm a headmaster not a miracle worker. I know nothing about glue." Dumbledore sniffed curiously. "Is that chai?"

Madam Pomfrey nodded, holding the cup in her hand gingerly. "Yes it is. Would you care for some?"

"Pfffttt…hell yes! Why'd you even ask?" He transfigured a seat next to them as Madam Pomfrey poured him a cup and gave it to them.

"Soooo…," started Fred. "How was your day Ol' Dumbledore?"

Dumbledore took a sip of chai and shrugged. "Pretty good so far, I got another shipment of Every Flavor Beans in. You know I can't help myself. The ministry is threatening me again, and Faux blew up…again, and I haven't showered in a week. Again."

"That's wonderful news!" said Madam Pomfrey taking a biscuit from the platter in front of them. "I love those jelly beans. But I remember one time I tried that rotten egg flavor. Absolutely dreadful, and the taste stays in your mouth so there's nothing you can do but commit suicide or deal with the taste all day."

Fred nodded sympathetically, knowing exactly what she meant.

"Say Fred, why is your brother on the ground?" asked Dumbledore looking over at the body.

"Oh, well…he got poisoned by a Hippogriff," said Fred staring at the body. "Not much of a surprise of course. I mean, it could happen to anyone."

"True," nodded Dumbledore. "My Great Aunt Tesse, who I always got confused with Albert Einstein, was once attacked by a moose. She got bitten badly, lost a chunk of her nose. We were afraid she'd loose the rest of her face but Mungo's saved her just in time. Very fortunate that one."

"Indeed," said Madam Pomfrey. "Those types of freak accidents can really get you for life, eh? But speaking of St. Mungo's, you think Neville is there by now?"

Dumbledore put down his cup. "Oh acidpops, I forgot to turn off the air conditioning in my office." He sighed tiredly. "That's another electric bill over the top for me."

"For a second I thought you were going to say you forgot about Neville," said Fred.

"Oh…that too," said Dumbledore clasping his hands together. "And as much as I enjoy the many elements of chai and conversations of moose bites and candy I better get to Mungo's before I get sued…like last time."

With that, Dumbledore winked at the two of them and tipped his hat as he disappeared in a mystical whoosh of pink glitter.

"Wait a second," said Fred slowly and suspiciously. "Dumbledore doesn't disappear in whooshes of glitter."

Oh get off it, this is my fanfiction and I'll do what I want to. And if you have even the slightest urge to retort I will pull your insides out of your belly button and string you to the owlery.

Fred grew pale.

Madam Pomfrey stood up. "Right. Well, I'm going on a hot date, so I better get ready," she said with a wink. She stepped over George's body and exited the Hospital Wing.

OOO

The smell of old people drenched in antibiotics and chai was the first thing that registered in his head as he sat up groggily.

The second was a sting on his cheek as Fred slapped him.

"What the hell was that for!" demanded George, touching his hand to his cheek protectively.

"For being an idiot of course," said Fred standing over him. "Thanks to you we have detention."

"Well what else is new!" said George gaining his balance. He stood up slowly with shaky legs.

"Good point," agreed Fred, but he snapped his attention back to the problem. "The prank was a disaster! Fainting during class? NOT FUNNY!"

George glared at his twin as he hobbled over to a bed and laid down. Fred followed him to the side of it. "Well, as if you can think of anything better!" snapped George, slipping under the covers and snuggling in.

Fred gasped. "Oh _really_? You think you're all snarky, eh? What with your bad ass fainting spell. _I'm_ the one that thinks of all the pranks."

"Oh bull shit Fred!" said George loudly. "Without me none of your ideas would have worked! _I'm_ the one with the realistic logic!"

Fred glared. "Right, well maybe I should start calling you Percy from now on!"

George gasped. "You. Take. That. Back."

Fred grinned. "_Never_. Not until you admit that I'm the true genius behind the masterwork."

"Oh, you have _got_ to be kidding me!" argued George. "Think you're all high and mighty, eh? You're bloody delirious!"

"Hell, I'm not the one who just woke up!" retorted Fred.

"You know what? I can't take it anymore!" George said throwing his arms up in the air. "You want to know who the better prankster is? Then let's have a prank war. Whoever surrenders to the other's genius looses."

Fred glared, crossing his arms across his chest. "Deal," he said hardly. "The war begins tomorrow."

George smirked at his twin. "Prepare to live your last, _Fred_."

Fred's eyes blazed. "We'll see who's living their last tomorrow, _George_." He turned around quickly with a glare and began to walk out of the Hospital Wing.

Fred turned around right before the door and looked back at his brother. "Oh yeah, and our detention is with Snape tomorrow morning." With that he left the Wing.

"Bloody magnificent," said George leaning his head back on his pillow.

From where they were standing/laying, both of them snorted.

* * *

Bwa ha ha…and so the prank war begins.

(Evil grin that makes you all wonder if I'm sane or not)


	2. What's Really Under the Table in Potions

Woo. I'm on a role here, bwa ha ha. I've written three chapters in a day, because I have no life. But alas, who on this site DOES have a life? Jk jk please don't kill me…

Disclaimer: I'm just a lowly girl looking who loves to dabble in the forbidden. Yes, what I do may not be accepted, humane, or even sanitary, but it is quite fun, and I recommend it to you, and you, and you. (grins). And seeing how this isn't really a disclaimer and I'm just babbling away like I always do, I best get to the point. The only thing I own is my trombone and my beloved pet snake, Fred and George are not mine. Yet.

* * *

Chapter 2: What's Really under the Tables in Potions Class

* * *

There was a rap that echoed through the spacious and yet quite violently graphic classroom as Snape brought his ruler down on his desk. Whether it was because the man had a passion for dramatic entrances or he was visualizing clubbing the two twins to death, neither Fred or George were sure. 

Snape spoke slowly and dangerously, his eyes piercing into their own. "Because of yesterday's little event, I have decided that you will be scraping all the gum…and other things…from under the tables."

George blinked. "What does fainting have to do with scraping only God knows what off the tables?"

"I'm not sure," said Snape slowly. "But the crap under them is absolutely horrific. Someone's gotta clean it."

To make a point, Snape lifted up one of the tables to reveal its underside.

The underside was dripping with nuclear goo that glowed a healthy blue. Such a shade accented the mold that grew like spider webs in the corners, collecting bits of dust and yellowy specks that are as of yet unidentified by scientists today. A spider crawled up one of the sides with its fuzzy legs, its eyes beady and contorted from the putrid smell and the radiation that had contorted it. It dripped in venom and saliva and potions extras that it had collected over time. There were bogeys and what looked like an old rotten wand attached to the table by bits of spider goo and mangled bug skeletons. To top it off there was a plethora of bubblegum wads in all shapes, sizes, and colors.

"Oh my lord!" voiced Fred disgusted as he shielded his eyes with his hands.

"I'm scarred for life," whispered George, his eye twitching and mouth open in horror.

"Quite," said Snape looking down at the table in disgust. "Well, you best get to work." With that, he sat back down at his desk and began to eat a Hotpocket.

Both Fred and George exchanged hesitant looks before taking out two small spatulas and getting to work.

OOO

Stupid Fred with his stupid bloody problems and his stupid _stupid_ pranks, thought George angrily as he sat down hardly at the Gryffindor table for break. The room was full of students talking and having their leisure. Fred was nowhere to be seen.

He's such an idiot! It wasn't _my_ fault we had to scrape the rejections from hell off the bloody table! He's the one who was being stupid! Stupid, stupid, stupid! He thinks I'm the one who made it a disaster! "Well at least I don't give my potion's bottles egologistical labels!"

A silenced rushed through the hall as people stopped to look for who said that.

"What's the matter with him?" whispered a young Slytherin girl to her friend as she walked by.

Her friend shrugged. "He's obviously psycho, we best not make contact. Plus, he _is_ a Gryffindor."

The two of them snickered.

George hit his head with his hands. Stupid, stupid Fred, he thought angrily. That's it, this deserved revenge. And I have just the plan…

He grinned slyly, giving him another round of disturbed looks as he stood up and made his way to Charms. With a quick little detour on the way of course.

OOO

"Today we will be learning about the proportional values of the orthodox tulip when mixed with the essence of an odd numbered classified spell pronounced backwards and then steamed," announced Professor Flitwick as he stood atop his throne of books.

"What the heck is that supposed to mean?" asked a Ravenclaw girl from the back of the room. This resulted in nods of agreed confusion.

"I'm not quite sure exactly," said Flitwick, holding his hands together. "But I do know that it is explained on page 247 in your textbook."

There was a hearty sigh from the class as they got out their books and turned to the said page.

"Now I would like you to read pages 247 to 258 right now and then answer questions 1-5. Then we will discuss the topic thoroughly."

Another sigh.

"And no more sighing," added Flitwick with a glare as he hopped off his books and walked towards his desk.

The only noise that could be heard was that of the rustle of turning pages and the scratching of confused heads.

George turned the page of his book swiftly, his fingers strumming down on the wooden desk. He was not reading however. Oh, he was far from reading. He was plotting the humiliating destruction of a specific twin brother that was currently breathing down his neck.

"Fred, what the hell? Stop breathing down my neck!" hissed George tartly, glaring at his brother.

Fred glared back and sat back down at his seat next to him. "I forgot my book!" he whispered back.

George hit his head. Lordy lord… "Go read off of someone else's then! Can't you see I'm busy?"

"Of course I can, but that's never stopped me before!"

George sighed impatiently. "Listen, why don't you go read off of some hot girl's book or something? Like that girl over there," he said pointing at the back of the room. "Pretty eyes, nice arse, pearly smile. Have some fun. Go on then!"

Fred looked at him oddly. "George, that's a guy."

George blinked. "Well bloody hell Fred! Just grab a book from over there!" George insisted, pardoning himself from his moment of sexual confusion.

Fred sighed. "Fine," he snapped. He got up and began to walk to the bookshelf.

George nearly laughed at his own genius. He just made the perfect setup for his prank! Without even meaning to! He gave himself a pat on the back before turning his attention back to his plan.

There Fred was, standing there cluelessly…_innocently_. Ba! What a fool! And he says _he's_ the genius. Oh just you wait Fred. Just. You. Wait.

George sank lower in his chair, keeping his eyes on the book as he snuck a hand into his pocket.

Okay, okay, here we go. He's coming back, he's coming. Lord that 'genius'; he doesn't suspect a thing. Come on now, closer Fred. Oh gasp with a z-snap! He just did a hair flip! Oh that bitch, he's gonna pay. That's _my_ move. Oh God now he's got the girls sighing. Damn you Fred, damn you to heck.

George quickly took the object out of his pocket with a clear face. Just a few more seconds…timing is key…

There!

He slipped the object onto Fred's seat right when he wasn't looking.

Suddenly, there was a ghastly and offending noise that cracked through the whole room as Fred sat down.

_Larbengeimdchingderfung!_

What the—?" started Fred standing up. But the rest of his words (most of which are too graphic to be written anyway) were drowned out by the roaring laughter of the class.

George snorted as he covered his mouth with his hands. He looked up into Fred's blazing eyes and then down at the whoopee cushion. He shrugged innocently and turned another page of his book.

Flitwick sighed and put down his book. "Students, students, peace now. Samantha stop staring at Fred's ass, stop snickering Lavender. Chris, _why_ are you eating glue?"

"It's good!" announced Chris with a laugh, his mouth full of paste.

Flitwick grimaced. "Now students, I'm no Health teacher, but I think we should all know that these…released…noises, are quite natural. We all do it! About four times a day in fact! So let's forget our green—."

"Professor!" insisted Fred. "It was a whoopee cushion, not me pulling off a loud one!"

"Yeah…you'd know if he pulled off a loud one or not…phew!"

"Whoever said that will die!"

"Oh…oh really?" said Flitwick with a chuckle. "Why, it was so convincing! I could have sworn it was real! Either that whoopee cushion is high quality or that prankster has it covered because that was marvelous." Flitwick laughed as he got his book out again.

Fred sat back down, glaring at George who gave him only an innocent look in return.

"You're on," whispered Fred dangerously. Oh, he's good. He's real good.

George turned his head and looked at his twin slyly. "You stole my hair flip. You're going down biotch."

* * *

Bwa ha ha. 

And you think a whoopee cushion is bad…just wait for what I have up my sleeve next.

(Whistles innocently and then ducks a bunch of vegetables people are throwing at me)

wha? A radish! Ba! I HATE radishes! Whoever threw that will die!

Replies:

Captain Cheese: yay Che! Lol. oh…so just to let you know. I have not given up on GOA. I'm almost finished with the chapter. Lol. it has taken me FOREVER! But, I will never give up. Anywho. That was a hilarious little reply there. Oh yes, poetry indeed. Inspirational, yes? Pfftt…no one cares about George. Hahaha. WHAT! That was YOUR turnip! I knew it! bwa ha ha… chai tea indeed. Can't live without it. oh yes. Underwater ironing is a fun game. The electric shocks are simply splendid!

Salma-Sol: my lack of sanity is almost as normaly sane as the saneness of the sentence that I am steaming right now. See? Lol yes, kitchen havoc is coming indeed. chapter five I believe.

Silver-star-0: yeah yeah yeah…if I was sane then there would be no fun in life. Haha. Bwa ha ha alkgnlweg. Yes, I love this story. I laugh while I write it and not pay attention at summer school. So yet again my sanity is questioned. Lol

XSTICKERS: thanka. how very kind. Tho I'm not sure cute is the exact word…hmmm…

Until then my silly little hippo dancers

Moose


	3. An Unfriendly Shadow

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO 

Chapter 3: An Unfriendly Shadow

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

The night was so cold it brought a chill to the very bones of each student's bodies, as the demons of the underworld taking residence in their souls shivered with frost.

A swollen full moon rose slightly above the castle, but it did not smile. If anything it cast unfriendly shadows upon the jagged accents of the castle below.

Hogwarts Castle was not safe this night.

Fred knew this and he knew this well, for as he sat in his room, he knew he was not alone. Which is really quite obvious since he was rooming with two other people.

Anyway…

Oh no, he was anything but alone, he was being watched by the shadows on the walls. The suspenseful silence that laid over them all like peanut butter did not help. The room felt small and thick with a tension he could not explain. The dark made his eyes fool with him.

A plan is brewing on this night, he thought with a devilish grin as he sat upon his bed. And someone will pay…

OOO

"George! George wake up!" said the frantic voice of Lee Jordan. George's body shook away and he snapped his eyes open.

Something wasn't right, he could sense it.

"What, what is it?" said George tiredly as he rubbed his eyes. He looked around as he sat up with a confused gaze.

The shadows cast of Lee's face made him look weary and haunted. His eyes seemed hollow and horrified. He rose a shaky finger the rivaled the tremble of his breath over to Fred's bed where the curtain was pulled back slightly. Lee closed his eyes in horror as if it pained him to say what he was about to say. "Look…"

George looked where his friend was pointing, in a daze. He didn't see anything. Just a pulled back curtain that revealed a bed covered in—.

"Oh…My…God," whispered George horrified. His own voice seemed caught in his throat. There was no way this could possibly happen. It was just a tale! A little child fable! And yet…as he looked at the covers of his brother's bed, he knew it had happened. The tale had come to life.

Lee took a deep breath before looking over at the bed himself. His hands were shaking and his face was pale, just the sight of it…he could take it any longer.

Without noticing, both of them scoot closer to each other, looking for some humanly comfort. Nowhere was safe now…not with _it_ on the loose.

"We…we have to do something," whispered George shakily. "It's taken my brother, I won't let it take anyone else."

Lee nodded hesitantly, fear showing in his eyes as well as Fred's.

"We should get Dumbledore. The whole castle is in danger…" the red head added with wide eyes, refusing to look back at the bed. Again, Lee nodded.

There was a sudden crackle and a spine tingling laughter that made the floorboards creak in agonizing pain. The sound came from a dark and secluded corner of the room.

Both of their eyes widened in fear as they backed away from the corner, their hearts racing. George backed up quickly to the door and struggled to find the handle with a panicked face, his eyes unable to look away from the corner.

"Come on! Come on!" he whispered, pressing up against the door. His face was pale and his eyes wide with panic.

At last the door was open. Both of them stumbled out of their room and slammed the door behind them as they ran out of the Gryffindor Tower like their lives depended on it.

It did.

OOO

"Hogwarts students and staff please report to the Great Hall immediately! This is not a drill! I repeat, this is not a drill!" boomed the voice of Dumbledore through the newly installed intercom system.

George and Lee sat wearily across from Dumbledore in his office. George's eyes were bloodshot and open as he cradled a cup of chai in his hands.

Even here was not safe from _it_.

"Nobody else was taken, am I correct?" asked Dumbledore with a stern and pale face.

"N-no, sir," said George looking down at his cup. "Just Fred…"

"Jesus," said Dumbledore, holding his head in his hands. "None of this was supposed to happen."

OOO

"Headmaster, we're all going to die aren't we!" cried a horrified voice in the crowd of students in the Great Hall. There was a sob in the distance.

Dumbledore held up a tired hand, his eyes open and alert. "Students, I will be frank with you, there is a dangerous creature loose in the castle. Where it lurks, no one knows. It could be anywhere."

Whispers of fear erupted through the hall.

"Well what is this killer Albus?" said McGonagal with a tight and distressed face as she wrung her hands behind her back.

Dumbledore turned back to the students and rose his hand for silence once again. "This killer is not of our world, it has corrupted the balance and nature of earth as we know it. It's contorted and strange…I have never seen it myself and I hope I never do, for its looks can kill. It wears short shorts, and sings, It's a one-eyed, one-horned—."

"FLYING PURPLE PEOPLE EATER!!!" cried a horrified voice in the crowd.

This resulted in quite the colossal gasp from students and staff alike.

"What are we going to do?! How are we going to protect the school?!"

Dumbledore silenced the scared crowd again. "Don't worry. We will stay in the Great Hall, use the buddy system for bathroom trips, and keep the room on lockdown."

They all sighed with relief. The buddy system always worked.

"Use the house elves as a sacrifice!" yelled a loud Slytherin with a powerful fist in the air. There were returning yells of agreement.

"WHAT?!" cried the voice of Hermione with wide eyes and a wider open mouth.

"Silence! Silence everyone!" said Dumbledore. Again a hush fell over everyone. "Now this is a horror chapter, not a comedy. Let's keep it that way."

"Pft…why don't you tell the author that," said a Ravenclaw boy with his hands on his hips.

Indeed it was true. The author finds it particularly challenging to write a serious chapter without laughing her arse off in the process or adding in some random abnormality that no one really cares about.

Hmmm…much like this really.

Ironic.

Anywho, Dumbledore took out his wand and gave it a smooth flick. The large doors to the Great Hall were suddenly walled with steel, and the windows were cased closed as well.

No escape…

Dumbledore put away his wand again, the candles in the sky keeping the room lit. "There, we are safe now."

"Well how do _you_ know? What if it breaks through?"

Dumbledore sighed. "Listen you, I know well that the Purple People Eater is allergic to steel, and that is what's covering the windows and door. It was a special on National Geographic."

"Well National Geographic does know all," said a voice from the crowd. There were nods and murmurs of relaxed agreement.

"Sooo…anyone up for a game of four-corners?" suggested an outspoken Hufflepuff as he looked around.

"Oh goodness I love that game," said Madam Pomfrey clasping her hands together. There were murmurs of enthusiastic agreement.

"Right, well let's play then!" said Dumbledore with a smile. "Nose goes!"

In a flash everyone brought their finger up to their noses and looked around for the ignorant looser who was too into their own head to realize what the heck they were doing.

"Ah, Mr. Snape," said Dumbledore walking over to the Potion's Master. "Looks like you are 'it'."

Snape put down the book that his nose was currently in, name _Remember the Passion in my Pants. _He looked around to see everyone staring at him with stifled laughter and grins on their faces.

"Oh shripplefitz," said Snape with a glare as he put down his book. "Albus, you're kidding me."

Dumbledore shook his head with a hearty smile. "No I'm not Severus. Now stop complaining like a little boy with no candy and come play four corners."

Severus made sure he took his time in thoroughly glaring at Dumbledore and standing up. He walked slowly up to where Dumbledore was standing, with his hands behind his back and a stony face. He kicked the little bits of dust and balls of shed lint on the ground carelessly on the way.

At last Snape arrived at his destination.

Dumbledore grinned. "All right. Let's play then. Okay Severus count to 10…and _no_ cheating."

Snape sighed. Get. Me. Out. Of. Here. "Yes Albus. All right then. One…two…three…four…"

All the students giggled and grinned slyly as they bustled about, thinking about which corner Snape wouldn't guess.

"…five…six…"

By now most of the students were silent and waiting with racing hearts in the hidden dark shadows of their decided corner.

"…seven…eight…nine…"

They were engulfed in the deep darkness of the corners, invisible and unseen by anyone in the room but the inhabitants that also lurked in the corner with them.

"Ten. Hmmmm…I pick…ummmm…corner number three."

There was a silence as everyone waited for the members of corner number three to reveal themselves.

"Awww…you got us," said Colin as he walked out of the corner, followed by a hearty group of Gryffindors, Slytherins, and Ravenclaws.

"All right, all right," said Dumbledore as he came out of corner number two. "Everyone in corner three please site down over there. Very good, very good. Again Severus, let's see who he'll pick this time."

Severus nodded with a sigh as he took out his book and turned back to his last place. "One…two…three…four…five…"

Again the students were off, this time more silent, for the stakes and risks were higher. They couldn't get picked, they had to get in just the right corner.

"…six…seven…eight…"

There was a hush over the crowd as they disappeared into the deep corners. No one spoke, no one moved, no one was seen as they waited for the number to be picked.

"…nine…ten. I pick corner two."

There were sighs of relief as people let go of heir held breaths. They came out of the darkness of their corners to see who was out this time.

"Come now corner two, no need to be ashamed," said Dumbledore with a chuckle. "It's just a game after all."

No one spoke. No one came out.

Dumbledore frowned. Something wasn't right. He walked more out of his own corner and to that of corner number two with squinting eyes.

"Corner two, I'm serious now. No jokes, we must continue the game," he said standing at the mouth of the valley of darkness.

Dumbledore took in a shaky breath. "_Lumos_," he whispered as he took out his wand.

The white light cast from the tip of his wand and shot across to the folds of the corner, illuminating it with a flicker of haunted fire.

Everyone in the room gasped (excluding Snape whose nose was once again in his book, his cheeks blushing furiously).

Dumbledore dropped his wand on the ground, where it clattered, the flickering light still illuminating the corner.

"Oh…My…_God_…," whispered Dumbledore as his half moon spectacles slid down his nose. He crouched back down and picked up his wand.

"We're all going to die!" cried a voice behind the headmaster. There was a collection of horrified sobs.

In the corner of corner number two, there were no Hogwarts students. There were no students at all. But instead of smiling little people, giggling and yet disappointed that their corner was picked, there was a heaping glob of purple goo, spread across it like a splatter of monstrous sticky venom.

"It strikes again…" said McGonagal in a daze. "The Purple People Eater had taken the students."

"It's going to kill us all!" cried a horrified voice. "The Purple People Eater!"

"Silence!" cried the voice of Dumbledore over the crowd. Everyone hushed silent, there eyes wide open with fear.

Dumbledore heard a voice behind him by the purple goo, he snapped around and backed up a few steps. "Oh God. We aren't alone…"

"OOGIEBOOGIEFRAPJECOOKMEIHERGRLARNBINGRLOCKPOLISKINSERPUSHOOKAA!!!!"

In about as much time as it takes to realize that someone has pulled down your pants, the whole Great Hall was in confused chaos. Students were running around banging on the windows and doors for escape.

But there was no escape.

"Christ," whispered Dumbledore as realization dawned upon him. "We cannot get out. The steel won't release until morning. We are stuck inside this cage with the Purple People Eater."

A malicious laugh echoed through the hall, making the ancient wood in the tables creak and the very pores of the air scream.

"T-THERE IT IS!!!" hollered a loud voice of pure terror. An older Ravenclaw boy was pointing to the rafters with a shaking hand.

Everyone stopped as if the very end of the world itself had risen upon them.

"GLARPENDOOLEYOOKIETTOOKIEMUSHAPO!!!!"

There the Purple People Eater stood with all its might. It's on eye glowed with all the disturbances of the depths of hell and its purple fur matted with one thousand evils. The single horn atop its head glowed with the Qi of Satan's soul after being cracked and tossed in a third class caesar salad. And worst of all, oh, worst of all! Was the ghastly short shorts that clung in _all_ the right places!

The Purple People Eater let out another spine splinting laugh that made the whole Great Hall roar and rattle. The monster grabbed a convieniently placed jungle vine from behind a pillar and swing with it across the length of the Great Hall.

The monster landed on the steel entrance door.

It was then that everything seemed to stop in a burst of awed silence. Dumbledore stared at the Purple People Eater with a hearty glare.

"…National Geographic lied to me…" he whispered, anger thrashing through the very buds of his tongue.

"WE'RE ALL GONNA DIE!!!"

Everyone once again commenced in running around in horrified little circles and tripping over objects.

Suddenly there was a gigantic crack and the Great Hall door burst open. Hagrid walked into the Great Hall exhausted.

Everyone stopped and looked at the giant with confused faces.

"Hey Headmaster, 'ow come the Great Hall is covered in steel, eh? I don' remember it being 'ere yesterday…" Hagrid looked around scratching his head.

"Just installed," said Dumbledore walking towards the giant, thus walking towards the freedom of the wide open door. He looked around slyly. The Purple People Eater was nowhere to be found. "EVERYONE RUN FOR YOUR LIVES!!!"

This resulted in yet again more screaming and running as people sprinted out of the hall.

Hagrid spn around as everyone ran out of the room. "But I just showered…" he said with drooping shoulders.

OOO

It was the only place he could think of that could possibly keep him away from the Purple People Eater.

Draco Malfoy slammed the door to his bedroom behind him and leaned against it as he gasped for breath. He rest his head against the door and closed his eyes as he gulped in air. Color was slowly making its way back to his cheeks.

It's okay Gorgeous, he thought to himself. It won't get you here, it won't get you ehre.

Draco felt like he was surely going to pee in his pants.

He got away from the door and went to a small trunk where he took out a bottle of whiskey. He snapped the bottle open and took a hearty swig, relaxing at the feeling of the liquid sliding down his throat.

He sat down at the edge of his bed and rubbed his temple with his free hand. It was the middle of the bloody night, but he's never felt so awake in his life. What, with _it_ on the loose…

Draco jumped as a howl of a wolf echoed through the hills of the castle grounds. The full moon shone brightly through his window and the velvet sky that embraced it seemed particularly misty and occupied.

"Bloody hell," whispered Draco as he took another swig. As if he wasn't scared enough.

"No, no, I'm not scared," he told himself forcefully. The knuckled that grasped the whiskey bottle were white and choked. "The Malfoys do not fear anything."

_Thump_.

Draco jumped once again, almost dropping the bottle in the process. His face was ashen and his eyes were wide as he looked around. "Not scared, not scared…"

He bit his lip as he took in a shaky breath. It's probably nothing, nothing at all. He took another swig of whiskey.

_Thump. _

Draco stood up quickly and spun around. There it was again! He took in another sharp breath, his chest rising and falling laboriously as he began to sweat.

Was it just him, or did it sound louder?

His mind began to race with all the things it could be. A mangled body slowly rolling down the stairs, a killer hacking down on a body with an axe, a body thumping up against a wall strung to the ceiling by a broken neck, the Purple People Eater licking the protruding…

_Thump!_

Draco backed up slowly as he stared at his closet door. It was coming from his closet…

His shirt clung to his chest as sweat stifled his body, his breath was unbalanced and shaky, shallow and quick, as he debated whether to run or feed his curiosity.

_Thump!_

Draco flinched, his hands shaking.

He couldn't take it anymore.

Slowly, he inched a step forward, his eyes never leaving the door only about five feet away from him.

_THUMP!_

Christ, he thought. I shouldn't be doing this… 

But he couldn't help it. His curiosity had gotten the better of him.

Only a couple steps more…

_THUMP!_

His nose was inches away from the glossy oak of the door, his breath saturating it with heated breath as he slowly brought his shaking hand to the handle.

He grasped the brass knob tightly to keep his hands from shaking. His knuckles were white and tight. The cold of the metal burned through his sweaty palms and made the hairs of the back of his neck stand on edge.

_THUMP!!_

He felt the door move under his grasp.

Biting his lips, he slowly turned the knob.

"Damn, it's locked," he whispered, swearing under his breath. He took his hand off of the knob and took out a small ring of keys from inside his robes.

He slipped a small silver key inside the key hole and wiggled it a little bit.

"Nope not that one…"

_THUMP!!!_

Two more tries later, he finally found the right key. He felt the tumblers fall into place smoothly. Slowly, he opened the door with a pull of the knob.

"LAKAPUTTALOOGIEROOHEIMER!!!"

"AHHHHHHHHH!!!" screamed Draco with an impressive falsetto. He dropped the whiskey bottle that was in his hands and it shattered into a bazillion pieces below him. "AH! AH! AHHHHH…AHHH! AHHHH…wait…what the hell…_Blaise_?"

Blaise pushed himself out of the closet, doubled over in outright laughter. "Oh man! You should have seen your face!"

Draco glowered. "Blaise you son of a bitch! You scared the hell outta me!"

Blaise only laughed as a reply.

Draco glared. "All right, you had your laughs. Enough."

Blaise leaned up against the closed closet door and stood up straight as he shook his head with laughter. But suddenly, he fell silent as his face lost its color. His eyes grew wide.

Draco glared again, his arms folded across him chest. "Oh don't give me that. I'm not going to fall for your stupid tricks again."

Blaise shook his head, his eyes glazed over and wide as he looked past Draco's chastising face. "N-no…," he whispered. "L-look…"

Draco rolled his eyes but turned around. He froze too, adopting the same horrified look as his friends. "Christ…"

There was a flash of purple and then they were gone.

OOO

Ironically enough, all the students and staff had come back to the Great Hall after their 'great flight of horror and destruction'. It was also because all of their hiding places sucked and hard and the Great Hall was pimping (If only I meant that in a literal sense).

"Headmaster, what are we going to do? There's a maniac Purple People Eater out there!"

Albus Dumbledore seemed to be loosing hope. He was tired, he forgot to take his medication, and a good chunk of his students had been taking away by a short-shorts wearing purple monster.

"There is only one thing we can do…" he announced.

Everyone leaned in closer in anticipation.

"We must…"

But Dumbledore was cut off. Not only because the author hadn't the slightest clue where she was going at with this, but because there was suddenly a very loud pop.

_Poop. _

No, no…I said _pop._

_Oh. Ah. Pop. _

Everyone turned in confused silence as a bunch of laughing voices filled the room in the direction of a certain corner covered in goo.

Completely out of the blue and unexpectedly, the forgotten inhabitants of corner number two walked out with laughing voices and smiling faces.

"What? What are you doing here?" demanded Dumbledore walking up to them.

"Dumbledore, guess what?" started Seamus excitedly. "It turns out that corner over there is a portkey!"

"We went to Vegas!"

"Yeah!"

Seamus's grin grew. "And guess what else? Harry won the lottery!"

McGonagal snapped her eyes over to Seamus. "_Again?_" she asked amazed.

"The lucky bastard…"

"Hey how come you didn't bring me?"

"What was that about mustard?"

"Hey I want some glue!"

"I've been to Indonesia!"

_What?_

Anyway… 

Harry, who was currently surrounded by chicks and sporting so much bling it outweighed his ego, grinned.

Dumbledore sighed with relief. "Well now I don't need to worry about getting sued…again. But we still have one problem."

"And what would that be…?" said Snape slowly.

"That we still haven't 'taken care of' our little Purple People Eater problem."

"What?!" said Ron incredulously. "Are you saying that the author has been rambling on about pretty much nothing for nine pages?!"

"Well it's ten now actually," pointed out Hermione. "She just started a new page."

"Oh whatever," snapped Ron. Hermione glared.

Ah, lover quarrels.

"Right, well I guess that leaves us with only one thing to do," started Dumbledore clasping his hands together. "Kids, grab your scissors, get the llamas and the frying pans, 'cause we're goin' a Purple People Eater huntin'."

OOO

George and Lee snuck down the hall, their backs plastered to the wall as they slid along. George was in front, looking ahead of him slyly, while Lee took the rear, guarding their path.

They reached a corner. George leaned a little bit into the open, looking for anything the shade of purple.

The coast was clear.

Quickly, he dove out into the open, performing an acrobatic roll that landed him right on the other side of the crossing. He looked around a bit before waving Lee over.

Lee sprinted like a madman to the other side.

They were off again.

"Sooo…what are we looking for exactly?" whispered Lee as he slid along.

"The People Eater of course!" George whispered back. "I thought you knew that."

"Well I did know, but—."

"Then why did you ask, damnit!"

Lee glared. "Let me finish! I did know, _but_, how are we supposed to know what it looks like?"

Fred stopped, making Lee bump into him. "Well, Dumbledore said the thing wears short shorts. How many people do you know in this school wear short shorts?"

Lee thought for a moment. "Well let's see, there's McGonagal, Snape, that hot girl that sits behind me in Herbology…"

George sighed. "How many people do you know wear short shorts, have one eye, purple fur, and a horn?"

Lee took a longer time in pondering this. "Well…ummm…there's Snape…and that's about it, yeah."

George hit his head. "Just, nevermind. I have a picture that I tore out of a book that I found in the middle of the freeway a couple of years ago on my way to my Grandma's house." He took out the picture and showed it to Lee.

"…George, that's a picture of you pole dancing at least year's Christmas party in an elf costume."

George froze and took the picture back, shoving it back into his robes with a glare. "Honestly Lee, you really need to learn to control yourself. You're absolutely disgusting."

Lee rolled his eyes with a grin.

George grinned back and took out another picture. "Now _this_ is the Purple People Eater. So if you see _anything_ that looks like this, let me know."

Lee analyzed the picture for a moment. "You mean like that?" he pointed to a mound of matted purple fur.

George squinted to get another look. "Hmmm…" he walked up to it and crouched next to it with Lee right behind.

"You wouldn't happen to have a pointy stick would you?" asked George to his friend as he stared at the…thing.

"Actually, yes," said Lee. "He took out a stick from his pocket and gave it to George.

George thanked him and began to probe it. He picked up a fold with the stick and pushed it back, flipping it over.

"Jesus Christ!" blurted out George standing up and backing up a bit. He stared at the purple mound. "Yeah, that's it."

Lee looked at the pile oddly. He walked closer and picked it up, spreading it out to its full length.

The corner of George's mouth twitched. "So…how come this is a costume?"

Lee only shrugged as he looked at the Purple People Eater costume. The price tag was still hanging out of the sleeve. Two sickles, nice…

George's eyes widened as realization back handed him hard across the face. "I am going to kill him."

OOO

It was about three in the morning when George and Lee finally arrived back in their room. George sighed exhaustedly and Lee rubbed one of his eyes.

"Well, how was that for a midnight outing, eh?" asked Lee nudging George with his elbow.

"Never again," choked out George as he stared at nothing in particular. He didn't know whether to laugh or slap someone across the face. In conclusion, he decided to yawn instead.

Lee pat George's shoulder with his hand. "I'm right there with you man."

There was a sound of a door opening and both George and Lee spun around.

Fred walked in whistling innocently as he examined the room. He spotted George and Lee. "Oh hello," he said. "You two are up late. What have you been up to?"

"I think _we_ should be asking you the same, _Fred_," said George icily.

Fred looked at the two of them oddly. "What are you talking about?"

George shook his head. "You sick son of a bitch."

Fred gave them both confused looks. "What the hell are you talking about?"

George threw him hands up in the air and walked to his bed. Lee looked at both of the twins before going to his own as well.

Fred blinked. He sighed and walked over to his own bed as his brother and Lee slipped into their own covers.

"What the? How come there is purple goo on my bed?" asked Fred slowly.

George sighed loudly. "You should know."

"George, what are you _talking _about? I've been at Starbucks the whole time!" Fred scourgified the goo on his bed and got under the covers.

George sat up. "Okay, three things. First of all: What?! Second, how come you didn't invite me, and last, you didn't go to Starbucks because you were too busy running around like a madman in a fuzzy purple costume!" With that, George turned off the lights and laid back down.

The only noise you could hear for a while was Lee's snoring.

"All right, all right, you got me. I was the Purple People Eater," said Fred grinning.

"No shit Sherlock."

"Hey now, at least I got you back."

George grinned. "Yeah yeah yeah. But mark my words Fred. It's not over yet. Oh, it's _far_ from over."

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Sorry about updating so slowly. I actually had this chapter done a while ago…in like…July actually. Haha…guess I just couldn't update I was so busy. But I'm back and in business again now that marching band is over. Woo!!!

Replies:

Gummi worm: hahaha…well I do try I guess. I am insane…and proud of it (mwa ha). Oh yea…It get's crazier…when I am bored I lay on my bed, stare at the ceiling and let my mind entertain itself lol. haha…im glad you liked that part, it was so fun to write. McGoogles…oh lord…

Captain Cheese: CHEESE. Lol. heck yes chika…replying is funerer…then you know…not replying and stuff. Well you're gonna have to deal Che, D'mitri is dead, and there's nothing anyone can do about it. mwa ha. Oh please…Lemony and I ARE good buds. He is my uncle's uncle's sister. I once had a prank war…good times…good times. Come now…we're just getting started, it gets worse than a whoopee cushion. Ta.

Salma-sol: yes it is quite beneath them…but dear Salma…this is just the beginning, you have to let it build up. Yes the hairflip was indeed stolen, twas.

Silver-star-0: well I'm glad to see that I'm amusing. what else is there about me haha.

Alanna Cooper: haha!! I got everyone to look at you weird!!! lol


	4. A Little Misunderstanding

Well. I thought after last chapter's escapade, that we'd perhaps take it down a notch, eh? Lol. Silly Fred, always getting out of hand.

But I must say, this war is getting pretty spicy. Yum.

Disclaimer: Hey Joe, so, you know that book Harry Potter? Yeah, bloody excellent, very well written. But you know, why not spread the love a little? You can't just keep everything to yourself you know. (Takes out wallet). I'll give you twenty bucks for Fred and George.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Chapter 4: A Little Misunderstanding

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

"In the middle of June 1874, a very important time came for all the wizarding world. That was the time that Steve Von Lump invented the wand holster," announced Professor Binns. "The wand holster was a very important thing for wands. It held it when it wasn't in your hand, and it made sure you didn't lose it. Both of these were very important points, because you can't just hold your wand in your hand all the time. Putting your wand somewhere else was very important. Where else could you put your wand in those days? And that is why Steve Von Lump invented the wand holster. This holster came in three stylish colors. It came in black, very black, and charcoal. Wand Holster inc. skyrocketed after one year of production which made Steve a happy man. If you sell a lot of wand holsters you get a lot of money, and everyone likes money. Then Steve became morally corrupt and he killed himself with a sock, which takes us to 1875 when his heir to Wand Holster Inc took all the fuzzy…"

Someone fell out of their seat and fainted in boredom.

Bloody hell, thought George propping his chin on his hand. I wish he wasn't a ghost just so I could kill him myself.

From the looks of it, the whole class seemed to be thinking the same thing.

"Psst! George!" hissed Angelina leaning over towards the said twin.

George grinned. "Why Angelina, this is so sudden."

Angelina rolled her eyes. "Only in your dreams, Fred. Just pass this to Alicia for me, kay?"

George nodded and took the note that was in the girl's hand. He eyed the note curiously, wondering just what was in it.

It was then that an idea struck him. Notes: marvelous things really. A teenager's own survival tool in a boring class. And when used in just that right way, an object of certain disaster and humiliation.

George grinned.

"Mr. Weasley," started the droning voice of Professor Binns as the ghost went over to him. "Is that a note?"

George snapped out of his brief reverie and looked at the note then at Professor Binns. "This? A note? Nah…just a bit of scratch paper."

If Professor Binns had visible eyebrows, he would have risen them. More or less, he chuckled evilly instead.

"Oh really? Well I might as well take a look just to be sure." The ghost grabbed the note before George could stop him.

Both Angelina and Alicia glared at him and he knew he's be having quite a 'talking to' after class.

Professor Binns unfolded the note and grinned. "Ah, it is a note. And from Angelina to Alicia. Let's have a look-see. Hmmmm…Alicia, hey did you hear about that extra Quidditch practice tomorrow? Ugh, I've really had enough. He's really overworking us this time, and I just can't stand some of the people on the team. Well except for Fred and George of course…the way they hold those bats…anyway, write back, Angelina."

Angelina hit her head with her hand and glared at George as the rest of the class giggled knowingly.

George blinked. Awkward, and yet…I feel quite special now.

He then grinned. Yes, notes could be quite dangerous, and so is the game telephone when played just the right way.

By now the class was back to normal and Professor Binns was once again lecturing about the importance of wand holsters.

"Psst! Hey Angelina!" hissed George.

Angelina glared. "What," she quietly snapped back, her cheeks a slight shade of pink.

George leaned over to her ear. "Fred secretly listens to country music and Britney Spears remixes, he dances the polka when no one is looking, and he never wears underwear. Pass it on."

Angelina snickered and nodded before leaning over to Patricia and whispering what she heard into her ear.

The next fifteen minutes resulted in Professor Binns's ignorance in the fact that George had started quite the meaty game of telephone. The words were running along the classroom, leaving students in stitches as they passed it on to the next person.

Finally, there were only three people left: Lee Jordan, Phillip, and Fred

The words were passed to lee who nodded and looked at George questioningly. The boys darted from Phillip to Fred, silently asking which one he should pass it to.

George thought for a moment. There were so many ways he could do this. He took out a piece of paper and scribbled down something before crumpling it up and throwing it at Lee's head.

After having it rebound off of his head (almost landing in Binns's coffee in the process), Lee opened it. The Gryffindor read it and nodded with a grin.

Loudly, he cleared his throat.

The whole class and even Mr. Binns went into a confused silence.

"Fred, I don't know how I'm going to tell you this, so I'll whisper it into Phillip's ear and he'll yell it out really loud."

Lee leaned over and whispered the top-secret message into Phillip's ear.

"What?! Fred has the hots for McGonagall and thinks about her while polka dancing in a thong with his imaginary friend Joe while listening to Britney Spears remixes with his sex toy Shandra?!"

In about as much time as it takes to register that someone had cut off your head, the whole class was rolling around in fits of laughter.

Even Fred gave out a laugh.

Both of the twins met the other's gaze and George knew he was really in for it now.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Short, yes it was. But at least it's something, eh? It'll get better. Eventually.

Replies:

Haha I got one review. That's slightly pathetic.

Silver-star-0: haha. Oh you never cease to amuse me. I believe you spelled hyperventilating right. Good job. Such large words you have!! And your articulation!! Astounding!!! Oh yes, that was probably one of my best random chapters in the history of moose!!! hoorah!!!


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